


Blue Sky Complex

by peilicanhelican (asebi)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asebi/pseuds/peilicanhelican
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The sky looks less blue today."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Sky Complex

**Author's Note:**

> It's only shippy if you want it to be. Otherwise, it's not.

It was the last thing he saw before he died. A madman with a malformed face. An image of what he might have become. He knew his track record, and it wasn’t pretty.

There’s a flash of green, and then nothing.

So this was death.

It was almost fitting—welcomed.

Now, maybe he could face him. Now, maybe he can say the things he never could say before.

.x.x.

He’d only meant to stay a few days, maybe a few weeks, long enough to garner the information he needed.

Albus had not been in the plans.

He smiled when he saw the note; a rare chance for them to meet.

They met, as they always did, at the Peverell grave, though they never did stay long. This was a respite for Albus and sitting in a graveyard was no way to spend it. Their meeting place was just that—a meeting place.

Albus was already waiting when he got there, head tipped up and looking at the sky.

“The sky looks less blue today,” Albus said.

“Only to you,” he replied.

There’s a small smile, a tilt of the head, and then…

And then they were off.

Off to dream. Off to plan. Off to talk the world away. Just him and Albus.

There’d been something captivating about Albus—his mind, his brilliance.

No one else had ever understood him in quite the same way. No one else ever would.

And he understood him—understood Albus like no one else, not Aberforth, not his deceased parents, and possibly not even Albus himself.

At the end of the day, they’d separate—him back to his studies, and Albus back to his duties—but they didn’t stop talking. There were owls back and forth: long notes, short notes, important plans, and inconsequential chatter.

Albus wanted to leave, and he felt no qualms in encouraging it.

.x.x.

“The sky looks less blue today,” Albus said.

“Only to you,” he said.

They met at the grave even though they’re going back to Albus’s. There were plans to be had, and he couldn’t wait for them to finally go.

The problem, though, with the Dumbledore household were Albus’s far inferior younger siblings. He’d never say so to Albus, but it was true all the same. Neither of them could see the way Albus did. Neither of them could understand. It was better to get Albus away from them, convince him to run off together.

But it seemed it just wasn’t meant to be.

The moment the girl screamed—the moment she collapsed into an unsightly heap on the ground—he knew their plans would never come to be. At least none that involved Albus.

There was a moment of shocked silence where none of them could move, and then he fled. Back to the Old Bat’s. Back to his childhood home. And then, nowhere.

Because a girl was now dead. And while she meant nothing to him, been nothing but chains tying Albus down, she was his sister. Family. Someone he cared deeply about.

He didn’t know what’d hit her. He didn’t know who’d hit her. But that didn’t really matter because she was dead.

.x.x.

Change and revolution was hard. Change and revolution without Albus was harder. But things had to be done and change had to happen. And he had to be the one to do them.

Because no one else could see what he saw. And no one else would be able to do them.

There must be sacrifices. There must be order. There must be control.

He had to be the stronghold, the pillar, the leader.

Because no one else would understand.

No one but Albus. And Albus no longer saw.

“The sky looks less blue today,” he said. But there was no one else there to answer.

.x.x.

He faced him and laughed. The old fool. But maybe he was one, too.

It’s been years. Decades. Almost half a century. Almost a lifetime.

And for the first time, they matched wits. For the first time, they went head to head, toe to toe. For the first time, they’ll know who was superior—more talented.

There was no holding back in this game. It was him and the Elder Wand against Albus.

He known it was coming, known it since the moment they first met. And later, when he looked up at the man he used to know so intimately, saw only a stranger. This man wasn’t his Albus. He was sharper and even more secretive. Gone were the eyes that saw only him, that loved him.

He laughed again, then picked up the Elder Wand and gave it to him. It was useless to him now. He had lost.

He closed his eyes and said, “The sky looks less blue today.”

There’s a long pause, a long silence.

And then Albus spoke, “Only to you.”

He smiled, then, at Albus, because this was the end, and what a fitting end it was.

.x.x.

Dead, it said. And he laughed. A long, hard cackle that shook his bone-thin body and ended in a cough.

Dead, it said. And he cried. Sobs that wracked him to the core.

After all those years, all those decades. And he, still alive in his eternal prison with only his thoughts for company. Oh how the years have been unkind them, to both of them.

He looked up at the dark sky and said, “The sky looks less blue today.”

There’s no one around to answer him. There was no one around for miles. It’s him and only him. The silence was stifling. The memories were stifling. The air itself choked him.

Albus was gone. And he was still here.

Albus was gone. And he was still here.

Albus was gone. And he was still here.

All alone in the prison he’d built. All alone in an impenetrable fortress. All alone.

And he swore he could hear it, hear Albus say those words, “Only to you.”

.x.x.

He looked up at the madman and laughed. A visitor in his dingy cell. A visitor in his impenetrable fortress. And he wasn’t alone.

He looked up at the madman, so afraid of death, and he laughed.

So this was death. This was the end.

Maybe he’ll see Albus. Maybe he’ll unload his burden. Maybe…

Maybe he won’t.

No matter the regret, there was no going back.


End file.
